Everything
by FairyTale87
Summary: I am the first thing Elena ever tasted in her newfound freedom. Damon/Elena. Following 3x05.


_Everything_

I searched for Heaven. I tore at life, at love, at fate, to find it. I burned all I had ever created, and reconstructed with new materials in attempts for salvation. But was it worth it? Was fabricating a mythical and ever-changing heaven worth all I lost of myself? Elena would be in that place—that I knew. There was no way she could not be. But me? I wasn't even good enough for a world that I had created from my own longing illusions. It was a lie. The genuine smiles, the restraints of bloodlust, the seemingly inevitable redemption… it meant nothing unless it was for Elena. But as I searched and created this heavenly world and strung together what I knew Elena wanted from me, I found out Hell was more fitting. Looking for Heaven had found the devil in me.

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><p>"Morning, Damon," she says to me in the blithely harmonious voice I have grown so dependent on. Her features are warm to my icing skin.<p>

"Good morning," I reply in a tamed growl. Sometimes, that is all I feel I am to her: a wild animal she has domesticated to be a loyal companion… a dog, to be frank. I give her a small smile, in attempts to hide the raging battle spinning inside me. My blood is black as it pumps thickly and polluted through my veins. I hate what I have become for her; but she is Elena, and she is worth it. Or at least that is what I still want to believe.

"So—" she says timidly, unsure of where her thoughts are taking her. Elena's eyes shift slightly to the left so she is gazing into the smoldering flames of the fire. Her caramel eyes glaze over with a sort of shield. Elena hides herself, in obvious view, and no one can touch her. Not even her swirling thoughts.

"So?" I probe her in return. I consider cracking a joke, but Elena has become calloused to them—they mean nothing to her now. She doesn't want a smartass jokester of a Damon; she wants the serious, supportive, loyal, and brave man… she wants the old Stefan, which was formed from the original Damon. My thoughts become jammed with what Elena may mean by her actions and words, and I force them all to hush.

"I don't know what I want to say here. Is there anything to say?" Elena sighs and runs her fingers through her hair. I know she is speaking of Stefan and his assignment as prison guard over the Boarding House. I watch as the muscles throughout her body quiver and her fingers fiddle incessantly—she is lost without Stefan, and I feel a numb hatred rise in my chest.

"I don't know, Elena, is there?" I hate how dejected I am from this conversation. My silent and one-sided battle with Elena is like an orange haze rising over all I had ever cleansed and manicured with her.

"Well—I. Ugh, I don't know. This just seems all wrong." Elena crosses her arms, and begins to tap her foot on the ancient and warmly decorated carpet. Her sock-covered foot taps on the deep gold that swirls like vines over the thick blood-red background. Her toes peck and probe at the tiny hints of black and emerald that hover around the seemingly god-like gold. I stare blankly at her sky blue colored feet. Part of me wants her to stop the distracting motion; the other half is captivated.

"Wrong how?" It's a stupid question: of course I know how it's wrong. My baby brother is back to his old dark ways, with a new rusty edge to it. It's an edge that pierces Elena's and my heart alike. I wish it didn't. I wish I was strong enough to resist the pain. But after all, I am human. Under every vampire instinct, my soul is dangerously human. I don't know how much longer my spirit can endure such a dark and cold supernatural world.

"Stefan is gone. He of all people was the one I thought would stay." I notice Elena's lip begin to quiver. I sigh, sliding over on the couch to make room for her small body. Understanding my invitation, she sits next to me, pulling her knees up to her chest, and grasps onto her shins.

"People think and expect a lot of things, Elena. We can't have all of it—you know that. As much as you think you love Stefan right now, you'll move on." I shrug my shoulders, and leave my advice at that. I know she doesn't want to hear anything from me. I symbolize every wrong choice there is to make in life, and even worse, I have eternity to commit them.

"Move on," Elena echoes distantly, "yeah, I suppose. It's not that I can't. I just don't want to. He was there for the start of my 'new life'… my life without my parents."

"Don't confuse love with loyalty or dependence." I take a swig of bourbon—at least some things never change.

"Damon," she deadpans. She always does that when she knows I'm right. I laugh internally.

"You know I'm right, Elena."

She sighs, conjures up a reply, and then turns to me delicately. "You know what? It doesn't matter right now." I cock my head slightly, taken aback by her reply.

"If you insist…" I give her a sideways glance, unable to hold the subtle smirk that accompanies it. Again, Elena sighs.

"I just want at least one day when I'm free. Free from stress and life." I look at her, just simply look. I feel so insignificant to her. She wants more than vampires, more than this town, more than me and Stefan, but I am keeping her here. I am the dashes in between the numbers on her tombstone.

"Then be free. Seeing how Klaus Jr. is still here, though, I don't think a cross country road trip is an option. Neither is a trip to the mall… unless you ask him super nicely." I flash her a sarcastic smile, crossing my arms.

"Well," Elena began quietly. I hate how timid and hollow Stefan makes her.

"We can just sit here, if you want," I tell her softly, slightly nudging her shoulder to try and trigger some emotion from her.

"Damon, I don't know why I don't tell you this. But thank you, for everything. You've always been here. Sometimes in the most convoluted and twisted ways, but you're here." She crawls the small distance between us and curls herself up by my side, slipping perfectly under my arm. My body tenses. I shouldn't hold her. Not like this, not this intimately, not when she is so wounded. But then her goddamn sweet eyes glisten in my direction, and I am powerless to stop my arm from enveloping her shoulders. She snuggles deeper into my side, allowing her head to sink totally into my chest. She is so close. I feel the veins coursing through her body on my stomach, and I smell her honey skin and strawberry scented shampoo that lingers in her hair. I close my eyes and attempt to create a cold shower in my mind—she is so dangerously addictive.

"You're welcome," I whisper to her in reply. I don't know what else there is to say, so I don't test it. Elena's breathing becomes consistent and heavy. She doesn't speak; she just latches to me as I always had wished her to. I am her world right now. Stefan is a distant dream; a cracked light bulb that holds no more significance. But it still doesn't feel right—she still hasn't chosen me. If Stefan hadn't turned into the Ripper again, she would not be lying so peacefully in my arms. A warm sickness brews in the pit of my stomach.

"Damon," she says quietly into my chest, "will we be okay?" I can tell that she is afraid. No matter how many barriers or disclaimers she has, she is terrified. It's torturous living day to day not knowing if you will be alive tomorrow. Even with a vampire where life should be the one consistent thing, life and the future is very delicate.

"Yes," is all I have the heart to reply with. She doesn't want the truth, she wants hope.

"Good." She lifts her head to me, but makes no sudden movements; says nothing. "I'm glad you're still here." She hugs me, extending her one arm around to my opposite side. I feel her nails slightly dig into my ribs, and the slight movements of her arm over my stomach and side. Her breasts meld into me, contorting lithely to the shape of my ribs and abdomen. Her deep and full breathing presses them deeper into me, and I want nothing more than to trace their shape, touch the soft and innocent skin.

"I promised I'd never leave you again, and I won't." My fingers hesitantly moved to run my finger through her hair, and she did not swat me away. The silky softness felt like heaven on my skin—the heaven I had tried to construct and live in for Elena. Yet all along, I didn't need to create anything. My heaven was right in front of me. But she was also temptation; the trigger for the devil that still lurked within me. Either way though, we were interdependent on each other; I wouldn't want it any other way.

I am the first thing Elena ever experienced in her newfound freedom.

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><p>Yes, a one shot. What can I say? I felt like I needed a somewhat cheesy DE story to get me back into the swing of my multi-chapter TVD stories. (Which I promise I'll update soon). So, I would love to know your thoughts on this story, and if you think I should expand it, please tell me.

_Be good and review! _


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